Chapter 12
LOCHLAN
Adriana’s already working when I come out of the guest room later that morning. I tried to go back to sleep after that torturous run, but my body was too wired to rest… from the endorphins, from proximity to her… probably both.
It's barely eight, and she's at the kitchen island dressed in yoga pants and an oversized sweater. Her laptop is open on the kitchen island, phone pressed to her ear, coffee cup in hand. Her hair hangs in loose, glossy waves around her face.
I grab a mug, walk to the coffee maker, and pour myself a cup while trying not to eavesdrop.
And I’m failing completely.
“Tell the board I'll be available for a call at four. Yes, today. I know it's short notice. That's the point.” She pauses. “Thank you, Patrick. I appreciate it.”
She clicks to end the call, a grimace twisting her features. Then she drops the phone on the counter like it’s a hot coal. With a groan, she rubs a hand over her face.
“Page Six?” I ask.
She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Someone at the reception couldn't keep their mouth shut.
There's a blind item about a ‘Boston CEO's surprise nuptials to a mystery man with dangerous family ties.’” She takes a long sip of coffee.
“It's vague enough that I can ignore it, but my board is nervous. One of my biggest clients called Patrick, my CFO, at six this morning asking questions.”
I stand with my back against the counter. “You shut it down quick.”
“I have to. The longer it lingers, the more people dig.” She glances at me. “Did you get any rest after we got back?”
“Nah.” I shrug.
“Join the club.” She points to her laptop. “I've been working since we got back. Emails. Calls. Putting out fires before they start.”
I take a sip of coffee. “When's the meeting with the capos?”
“Two o'clock. Vincenzo confirmed about an hour ago.” She wraps her hands around her coffee cup, her brows knitting together.
“There are eight of them. I grew up around most of these men.
We were together at Sunday dinners, holidays, my father's birthday parties.
I know their faces. I know their wives' names.
But I don't know them. Not the way I need to.”
“What has Vincenzo told you? Anything you can use?”
“I mean, he’s given me what he can. The rundown on who's solid, who's ambitious, who's been making noise since Dad got shot.” She rolls her eyes. “And then there's Riccardo.”
“Your cousin, right?”
“Yes. His father was my uncle. He died about ten years ago. My dad always felt an obligation to take care of Riccardo since he had nobody else. So he tried to give him jobs, bring him into the fold.” She shakes her head.
“But he’s a greedy bastard who doesn’t show respect or gratitude.
He’s entitled and a loose cannon who causes problems because he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.
He always wants more than he's earned, and he’s definitely pissed that he wasn’t my dad’s pick to run things himself since the attack. ”
“Is he dangerous?”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her diamond stud earring glittering in the overhead light.
“Not in the way you mean. He's not going to pull a gun on me.
Or anything. But he's got a big mouth and a chip on his shoulder the size of Rhode Island.
If anyone's going to challenge me publicly, it'll be him.”
“Okay, good to know.”
“He's also smart enough that my father couldn't justify cutting him loose. That's the problem. He's not bad enough to remove, but he's not loyal enough to trust.”
“So how are you going to play things out with him?”
“I won’t let him rattle me or give him an opening to talk shit about how things are going to work until my dad is back.” She meets my gaze, a smile tugging the corners of her lips. “And I’ll have you standing behind me glaring at him like you'd very much enjoy rearranging his face.”
I chuckle and finish my coffee. “I would enjoy that. See? You already know me so well.”
And fuck me if a little dot of pink doesn’t pop into her cheeks at that. “I know. That's why it'll work.”
“You've got this, you know.”
She bites down on her lower lip. “You think so? I don’t ever second guess myself when it comes to business dealings, but this is so different.
I have to convince these guys that I belong in the power position.
I can’t let them see me as the little girl who’s trying to fill Daddy’s shoes.
I need them to take me seriously and to respect my decisions. ”
“Adriana, I watched you at our reception. I saw you shut down my brother Ronan, and he’s not the guy who walks away without a fight.
You made a toast that shut up an entire room of people who want to see you fail.
” I shrug. “These guys might have more guns, but they're not smarter than you.
They're not tougher than you. And they sure as hell aren't more prepared than you.”
She stares at me for a long minute. “You don't know that.”
I walk over to the island and rest my arms on it. “Yeah. I do. I’m pretty damn perceptive.”
She holds my gaze. Doesn't look away. “You really are so different than I thought,” she murmurs.
“I like to shock and awe,” I say with a wink. “Keeps people on their toes. Now, how about some breakfast?”
“Oh, I don't usually—"
“Eat? Yeah, I noticed. We need to fix that.” I walk to the fridge and open the door. “I'm making eggs. You're eating them.”
Her eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
“You've got a room full of old-school mafia captains to intimidate in six hours. You need protein, not just caffeine.” I pull out eggs, butter, and some chopped vegetables I bought yesterday. “How do you like them?”
She stares at me like I've grown a second head. “Are you seriously making me breakfast?”
I waggle my eyebrows at her. “I'm making breakfast. You happen to be here. There's a difference.”
Her lips twitch. “Scrambled. If you're insisting.”
“I'm insisting.”
I fire up the pan on the stove and whisk the eggs and vegetables in a bowl. A small surge of victory flares in my chest as her words tumble around my mind.
“You really are so different than I thought.”
I don’t know why I want her to see the real me. Why I care. We both know what this is and what she’s made clear it definitely won’t be.
But she’s different, too. She’s shown more than a few glimpses of vulnerability, and there are so many more layers beyond the polished corporate tycoon facade she wears.
Layers I’ve come to enjoy peeling back. Layers that give me insight to the real woman I married.
And I want to know more.
I pour the mixture into the pan and the eggs hiss as they hit the heat. Casting a glance over my shoulder, my eyes latch onto hers. She looks startled. Caught. I bite back a smile and return my attention to the eggs.
Looks like she’s wondering about me, too.
“Do you cook a lot?” she asks.
“I try to do it as much as possible. My grandmother taught me before she passed. She believed food was how you showed people you cared.” I use a spatula to loosen the eggs from the sides of the pan so they don’t stick.
“My dad thought it was beneath a Molloy man to work in the kitchen. So naturally, I made sure to get really good at it.”
“Naturally.” There's something warm in her voice that makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. “Spite as motivation. I respect that.”
“It's underrated.”
Reaper wanders in from wherever he was sleeping and immediately makes a beeline for Adriana. She sighs but reaches down to pat his head before he even starts begging.
“He's getting pretty bold,” I say, turning back to the sizzling pan.
“I think you mean spoiled.” But she scratches behind his ear, anyway. “Don't you have your own human to bother?” she murmurs to him.
Reaper's tail wags. He doesn’t make a move or even look at his own human.
“Such a traitor,” I mutter.
“You keep saying that. I don't think he cares,” Adriana says as she continues to stroke his ears.
I smile. And just like that, another layer falls away.
A couple of minutes later, I place a plate in front of Adriana. Scrambled eggs with vegetables, a little cheese, and some chives. “Breakfast is served.”
She looks at it then at me. “Wow, this is... actually impressive.”
“There’s more to me than meets the eye. You just said so yourself.” I wink at her. “Don't sound so surprised that I can actually be the guy who makes the most incredible eggs you’ve ever tasted.”
“Easy, there. Let’s not go that far.” She forks some of the eggs, and when they hit her mouth, her eyes fly open wide. “Oh my God,” she moans. “They totally are.”
“I guess we just keep surprising each other, huh?”
She scoops up another forkful and I can’t lie. The moaning has an effect. It’s hard for me not to gloat.
“Yeah,” she says after swallowing. “It's becoming a problem.”
“I told you. I like to keep people on their toes." I grin and rinse out the pan. “And being a kick-ass chef is a good tool to have in my arsenal.”
"Ooh. Arrogant."
I turn away from the sink. “Accurate.”
She almost smiles, but catches herself before she digs back into the plate of eggs. It’s like she doesn’t want me to see I’m affecting her, but the fact that she keeps trying to hide it makes it even more noticeable. I’ll keep that to myself, though. For now.
I put the pan in the drying rack and place my own plate of eggs across from her at the island.
We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes while we eat.
Reaper lies at her feet like he's known her his whole life.
Morning light streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows as the city comes to life outside.
It feels weirdly domestic.
I wonder if she feels it, too.
“So, I've been thinking about the meeting with the capos,” she says finally. “How to position you.”
“Position me?” My brow furrows. “Like you want me to be in a specific yoga pose while you talk?”